• escaping
    your touch on my skin
    autumn drizzle

    lost and found
    he said I know you
    from another life

    deep in the snow
    deep in my dream
    death is...

    gibbous moon
    waxing or waning
    the tint of my sins

    every crack
    of heart
    he promises me
    it mends


  • I was an orphan growing up in several foster homes. They labeled me as 'troubled', I guess they're right. 

    I remember one foster mom, a very nice woman, my troubles began with her plastic flowers...

    3 big yellow sunflowers with 5 red roses. She placed them all mixed in a crystal vase. It isn't right! The colours fight. So I put red roses aside. The first time I did that she was laughing but told me not to do that again. After a few times she was not amused and gave me a stern warning.

    I really didn't want to upset her but at night while everybody's sleeping, I heard those red roses' screaming. I had no choice, I hid those red roses in my drawer, they're safe... and the next day I was sent to another foster home.


    ugly duckling
    one less curveball
    to deal with

  • Rushing river
    a finch calling to a finch
    ... silence

    NHK Haiku Masters Video on Demand Ep.9
    'Hatakeyama Memorial Museum of Fine Art - Tokyo'

  • between skyscrapers
    under the slanted sunlight
    cherry blossom


    briefly briefly
    the signs of spring
    a yellow butterfly


    solemn hours
    my mom reciting
    the holy verses


    all over a decayed wood
    circle of life

  • the edge
    of the Zen garden
    wild peonies


    spring drizzle
    my neighbor’s kid
    running barefoot


    sidewalk daffodil
    I forget
    to remember you

  • a last note
    of mother's lullaby –
    winter rain


    colliding neutrons
    a comma becomes a dash
    in father's poem


    chasing butterfly
    I return to
    childhood field


    rice paper...
    a winter crane

    (dedicated to Jan Benson)

  • starry night…
    can you see the swirls
    of my sanity?

    on the easel blood drops catch
    the morning light

    learning the truth
    of fleeting dreams
    self portrait

    rising moon over
    wheat sheaves vibrate
    a red haze

    just one summer not alone
    golden hue of sunflowers

    on the borderline
    waver and merge


    Elisa Theriana, Bandung, Indonesia
    Ray Caligiuri, Beaverton, Oregon, USA

  • cracked windows
    the moon
    we leave behind


    collapsing stars
    she clings onto
    a piece of summer

  • leaving just dust
    after we touch
    red butterfly

    stars aligned
    my eyes slowly trace
    his laugh lines

    spilled tea
    a decade
    not letting go

    this heat embracing my forgetfulness

    he loves me,
    in her hand
    a sunflower